The Gift
by Hubristic Chick
Summary: After the Final Battle, Commander Potter works with international magical disasters. He's powerful, respected, and has a purpose. But something is missing...A gift from an old woman changes everything. Crossover, AU from Book4
1. Chapter 1

-1Disclaimer: yeah right I wish harry was mine!

_Prologue _

'Commander Potter!' A sweaty wizard dressed in healer's robes reached the side of a tall young man. 'Commander get to the healer's tent now!'

Surrounding wizards and witches looked at the man in alarm. The lack of decorum in the demand signaled a disaster, one that had shaken a normally constrained man into panic.

………………………………...

It was three years after the defeat of Voldemort, three years after the bloody Final Battle, and 'War of Terror', involving much of the Magical World, beyond England and even Europe. Harry Potter had been caught in the middle of it since the start, ironically, the end of his fourth year. After the insane, self proclaimed Dark Lord had risen again, Harry had found himself given to an international team of Auror's and Unspeakables. The best of the best had trained him, in battle and magic, strategy and the arts of fighting. He had surpassed every expectation, learning and growing into a hardened young man, fueled first by the death of Cedric Diggory, and later the knowledge of a dark prophecy.

Only one could face the coming darkness, only one could triumph. Harry swore to himself the moment he heard the prophecy on the dark summer night he turned fifteen, that he would be the strength the world needed to defeat Voldemort. Prophecies were iffy things and while Harry didn't fully believe in destiny, he believed in something else…

A burning had begun in his heart the moment he watched Cedric fall dead, the moment he realized his true vulnerability. A mix of anger, and fear, and pure, powerful magic churned within him. He would defeat this monster. He would end the threat to those he loved and even those he didn't. He would protect.

He found the Horcruxes Dumbledore informed him of, and destroyed each with the Baslisk fang he had retrieved from the Chamber of Secrets. It took him months to hunt them down, and with every passing day the world grew darker. Muggles were murdered in 'terrorist attacks' or 'freak accidents'. Wizards aligned with muggleborns were targeted, as were those connected in anyway to the Order of the Phoenix, the resistance group formed by Dumbledore during the first war. Harry found himself tested in battle, defending homes and lives from crazed Death Eaters. Something about the ritual Voldemort had used had poisoned their minds, draining their magic and destroying their conscious.

Severus Snape had been the first to notice the effects, immediately notifying the Headmaster of Hogwarts, who bound his arm in a series of runes which blocked the drain. Now useless as a spy, Snape became one of Harry's instructors, blocking his once debilitating hate of Harry's father to teach him the Dark Arts as he knew them, and the secrets of Battle Potions, of which he was an expert.

Masters of Magic came from the world over to instruct alongside Snape. Locked within the Chamber of Requirments within the British Ministry months at a time, Harry learned all he could with a ferocious appetite. Time was slowed within the Chamber, leading to Harry gain experience he might not ever have had to chance to collect. Skirmishes with Death Eaters were his testing grounds and his talent and power soon became evident to the Dark Lord. Enraged he struck out against the most vulnerable part of Harry's defenses; his heart.

Neville Longbottom was captured and murdered, left outside the gates of Hogwarts during Christmas of what should have been Harry's sixth year.

Harry, in Tibet at the time, returned to England the next day. He hunted down the murderess within hours and killed her. It was Bellatrix Lestrange, the witch who had reduced Neville's parents to mere shells of humans.

Hermione's parents were captured next. Harry managed to retrieve them, but not before they went through hours of damaging torture. In guilt and fear for their safety, Harry tried to end his friendship with her and Ron but they vehemently refused. Friends to the end they vowed…

Both were murdered on Valentine's day their seventh year, shielding younger students from a raid on Hogsmeade. By then, the losses the world felt were enormous. In his insanity, Voldemort summoned Demons who slaughtered people by the hundreds around the world. Harry was sent into battle over and over again, used for his power and fantastic fighting ability.

And he wouldn't have it any other way. He fought with grief in his heart, taking into battle the memory of his friends, his family. Striking with spells and sword and gun, names rang through the blows.

_Cedric, Mum, Dad, Neville, Susan, Dean, Cho, Hagrid, Hermione, Ron… _

Voldemort in his course to weaken Harry, had instead given him a drive to defeat him.

And deep within the Chamber of Requirment, during lessons with a Native American Shaman, Harry discovered the power that Voldemort did not know.

In searching for his animal spirit, Harry discovered his animagus form; the FengHuang. He could tap into pure, wild, magic with this form and after practice, in his human form as well. In finding the creature of his soul, Harry, named Burning Spirit, became incredibly powerful. A month after his discovery, on the fields of the ancient battlefield of Troy, the fight that would become known as the Final Battle, begun.

Harry fighting was a glorious sight. After only three years of instruction, strenuous and concentrated as it was, he was a marvel to behold. He cut through demons, werewolves, vampires, trolls, witches, and wizards with grace, magic, and cold steel. Remus Lupin and Sirius Black both fell in this battle, one to the crazed werewolf Fenrir Greyback, the other the sword of the elder Malfoy.

Harry found their bodies within moments of feeling the loss of their auras. Crying out what some would remember as the most grieved sound they had ever heard, he tracked down the werewolf by his magical scent and leaped to thrust into his chest a dagger of silver. Greyback died within seconds. Turning to search for Malfoy Sr. he saw nearby a streak of green flash to hit the very man himself. The wand that had sent the beam trembled and Harry had looked for a moment into the wizard's grey eyes.

Draco Malfoy had met his eyes and nodded before turning away and heading back to fight once more. 'For my mother,' he called back, '…and your godfather.' The young man had refused to join Voldemort and in retaliation, his father had killed his mother and turned then to him before Draco escaped. Draco fought not for the Light or justice, but rather revenge and survival. It didn't matter. He was an excellent swordsman and dueler and Harry trusted his wand to hit with deadly accuracy.

Not long after this encounter, the moment which history and prophecy waited for arrived. Lord Voldemort, ghastly and deranged, human no longer stood against Harry Potter, a rough, noble, figure glowing with magic. They fought. Fire against water, cutting whips of vine slicing shields of air. Hexes and Curses rolling off of tongue and wand, and hand. Both were versed in wandless magic, both were powerful. But in the end, spurred by a burst of the burning fire that had once inspired him, Harry transformed into his animagus form and thrust wave after wave of purifying magic toward the creature that was once Thomas Riddle. He never stood a chance. The magic wrapped around the younger wizard as well, removing the last taint of Voldemort's soul that remained within Harry's curse scar.

The battle was still far from over. The creatures siding with Voldemort were driven insane by the last vestiges of the link to their master. They did not surrender, in fact, could not think of anything beyond the madness and bloodlust Voldemort's demise had caused. Hundreds of wizard's fighting under the flag of the Light, a silver phoenix, were slaughtered before Harry Potter, in the greatest feat of magic ever recorded, transported every single fighter of the Light into the safety of London. Thousands had looked dazedly at hospital or courtyard walls were before bloodthirsty vampires and wizards had raged. Questions flew round Muggle and Magical London, asking why there were suddenly thousands of wizards of every nationality and creatures of every race everywhere in London. Obliviators went to work immediately, settling the panic the Muggles were falling into after seeing bloody warriors appear out of nowhere.

However, the mystery of how the Final Battle ended would not be solved for quite some time.

Harry Potter, after ridding the field of his allies, felt both in relief and panic. What the fuck had he been thinking?

The insane creatures roving the field turned almost at once to the single living being on the battlefield who was not connected, at least any longer, to Voldemort. A single moment thrummed tense over the blood soaked fields. Then, as one, the hoards descended upon Harry, who had taken the initiative to transform into his human form.

If one loves paintings, seeing the Mona Lisa might be a fulfilling moment in one's life. If one holds music dear, then to hear Vienna Philharmonic might be a tear jerking occasion. For a lover of the art of battle, to see a fight as the Stand of the FengHuang at the Final Battle on the fields of Troy, well, to die fulfilled would be the least of one's rewards.

He fought with the styles of his masters, the spells and movements, and combined them into his own. He fought with blazing guns and shining blades and with his battle worn body, until finally, among the corpses of his enemies and drenched in blood both his and theirs, his body could take no more. Harry Potter fell, in pain and exhaustion.

This would be the moment you met Mona Lisa's eyes and felt her soul. The climactic crescendo of the Symphony. The moment you caught your breathe and wondered if your heart could take what came next.

In a burst of magic, Harry's falling body emitted such a wave of magic that the defeat of Voldemort might have seemed anti-climactic. Silver waves pushed forth to surround him and those on the battle field, picking up the swarming dark creatures shushing their lives quietly. The battlefield grew dark and quite, bodies laying in death were many thousands of years ago, the corpses of Trojans and Greeks once rested.

And in the center, bathed in blood and silver light, lay Harry Potter, Hero of the World.

The next day, Wizards finally reached the spot of the battle, only to be mystified. Death had come it seemed and taken their enemies. But how? Many questioned but only two held anything close to the truth.

And only one of two was conscious and able to speak.

The Shaman who had guided Harry Potter gave a simple explanation. Harry's Animal Guardian, immensely powerful, had come to the aid of the young hero in a moment of desperation. Channeling his own immense magic into that spirit must have caused the surprise relocation of the Light and instantaneous defeat of the Dark. A bit farfetched and in reality, skewed from the actual events of the Final Battle. Nonetheless it was accepted almost immediately by most and for the suspicious… The old Shaman chuckled to himself, thinking how on earth Harry was going to explain.

Harry at this moment, couldn't explain anything at all, due to his deep, irreversible coma caused by a massive case of magical exhaustion. The wizards collected his still body, no longer glowing and took him to St. Mungo's. They patched him up as best they could, though scarring was inevitable and let life go on.

The world rejoiced and grieved at once, for their dead and their freedom. Eventually, (eventually being 3 months later) Harry woke up. He recovered, mentally and physically, with the help of healers, the remaining Weasly's and even Hermione's parents. However, he was ever changed by this war, in ways many, including his adopted family, could never understand. He was harder and wiser for his experiences, but also…well, that leads us to the present.

………………………………...

Harry, who had just turned twenty-one, was six foot three, built, and incredibly beautiful. He was often good naturedly teased by his men for his looks, described as an angel or even as on Irishman in the Auror Corps called him, a Sidhe. His face held hints of Lily and James Potter, but his transformation 3 years ago had left him with a nearly otherworldly appearance. Over the fine bones of his face, alabaster skin glowed faintly. His emerald eyes saw perfectly and were gleamed brightly. A faint sprinkle of fair freckles dusted his nose, the only remnant of his many ventures into the sunlight. His hair has gloriously thick and reached his waist in a braid tipped with leather. A tangible memory of the magic he used during the Final Battle was evident in a single stripe of silver running through the length of his hair.

His body was crossed with scar after scar, testimony of wounds so severe they were nearly un-healable. And finally, the one scar that had defined him for so long, had been reduced to nothing but a silver shadow upon his forehead.

After the Final Battle and his recovery, Harry had entered the International League of Warriors, an military force sent to deal with magical disastrous, whether they be the accidental releasing of plague demons or an uprising of a MMU (Malicious Magical User) With his experience he rose to the rank of Commander, second only to the Head of Operations. He had done good work, amazing, helpful, even wondrous work the last three years. Just now he was cleaning up village destroyed by a cyclone demon in Japan that he in turn had destroyed with a well aimed obliteration curse.

_Then why I so I feel so restless?_

That was the million galleon question. He turned when he heard his name called frantically. 'Commander Potter!'

………………………………...

The healer brought him next to the cot of an old woman who was deathly still, before retreating outside to the bedside of another patient. Harry looked at the frail, Japanese woman with wispy hair held in a messy bun. When he sat at her side he was confused. What had all the fuss been about? It took a lot, he knew to shake the team Healer and the impending death of an elderly woman was not enough to disturb him so greatly.

Then her eyes opened.

Pure black orbs of obsidian stared at him relentlessly.

'こんばんはが陶工を略奪します'

In the same language, suddenly intrigued greatly, Harry returned her greeting, though in respect to her, not asking the questions that came to mind. One of his instructors had been a very old fashioned master of Japanese magic and had insisted that Harry learn his language and the proper greetings to be at least moderately polite.

Continuing in Japanese, she said frankly, 'I am dying Harry Potter. I have a gift for you before I go. I have been waiting many years for your coming, waiting many years for this moment.' She chuckled dryly. 'I am afraid I let a bit of my excitement get to your healer.'

Harry looked at her, a single brow raised, and said, 'Ah, empathy. I had wondered by Healer Tokato was so antsy.'

She grinned a toothless confirmation, before coughing. 'Not much time left. That demon did quite a bit of damage to me.' Harry saw the bandages wrapped around her chest and silently agreed, before turning his eyes to her strange, shining ones.

Seeing the look in his eyes, she held a hand to him which he grasped. 'Compassionate aren't you?' Harry looked startled. 'I don't know about…'

She shushed him with her hand. 'The minute you knew I was dying and your fenikkusu power would be useless, you began to grieve.'

Her white head came up off of the pillow to stare him straight in the eyes. 'You are all I expected and more. I am glad to give you this gift. May you find happiness.'

With this, a strange heat began to pass from her hand to his. Harry looked down in surprise to find cradled between their clasped hands was a stone globe, made of the same obsidian as the strange old woman's eyes. It pulsed once, twice before silver strands of magic streamed suddenly to wrap around his hand, leaving faint, silver, tattoo like marks. The woman's hand fell away and her eyes closed. Harry stood almost violently in his distress. What had just happened?

'Tokato!'

………………………………...

Hope you all enjoy this. Had a random burst of inspiration today and wrote this in one sitting. A warning- this will most likely eventually be slash. If your offended please don't read on or write negative things in regard to the nature of the story.

Please review!

PS

Bonus points to whoever can guess what Harry is and what sort of crossover this will be!

-Spring


	2. Chapter 2

-1Chapter 2

The healer sighed, releasing his hold over his magic. 'I'm sorry Commander. She's gone.' With a hesitant glance over to the stoic man, the healer went to help a child with a broken arm.

Harry sat again near the body of the old woman, whose face was covered with a white cloth. Lost in thought, he almost didn't notice the young boy coming up to him.

'Fenikkusu-sama, she is happy now.'

Harry looked at him. 'You know- knew- her?' Harry dreaded hearing that this was the boy's grandmother.

'Only as much as we all did here. She has lived in our village for longer than any of us can remember. A wise woman, who tried to help where she could. We knew that she was waiting for someone, you I suppose.' The little boy looked at the globe in Harry's hand. 'To give you that.'

Harry looked at it as well. 'Do you know what it is Fenikkusu-sama?' 'No.' The boy smiled. 'In our village, when we reach adulthood, the wise woman would give us a stone globe, usually the size of a pearl or grape. It leads, tugs you in the direction of your soul mate.' The boy held his hand over the stone but when Harry moved to give it to him he shied away. 'No, no, let no one else touch it. Yours is larger than most.' The boy reached into a pocket of his frayed pants and grasped a cloth. 'You have a long journey ahead of you, though perhaps the distance is not so far.' There was a look in the child's eyes that spoke of wisdom entangled with magic. A seer.

'Wrap this until you are ready to find your mate. You will know what to do when you are ready.'

With that, he left the tent in a scamper, before the bemused Harry could respond.

………………………………...

Leaving the tent as well, Harry looked around for the child. He was no where to be found.

Orders were given and camp packed up. The villagers were healed as best as they could be, and the majority of the buildings cleaned or repaired. It was time to return to headquarters.

A portal spell opened the way to the main building of the base of operations. A huge, colorful monstrosity of a base, it was surrounded by hundreds of shimmering wards and peopled by creatures from round the globe. A courtyard of epic proportions was dotted by groups and individuals talking or resting. Warriors from every magical, and a few mundane, communities were represented. From Aztec spirit hounds to the Egyptian Sand-Warriors to the Japanese demon hunters, there were people from every stretch of the world. And seeing Potter and his team returning, all halted to bow in respect, the usual greeting to victorious warriors. Soon, the moment of homage passed and Harry had to duck and swirl through curious crowds of friends and fellow warriors, trying to get to Mission Checkpoint. Reaching the counter, he stood in line behind a 8 foot tall fire demon who finished signing the paperwork for his mission to the Hawaiian Islands.

Mission Checkpoint never ceased to amuse Harry. Built much like a muggle bank, mission recorders sat behind glass booths, pushing miniature pensives and dreaded paperwork to team leaders like so many bank tellers. To Harry, watching some of the most vicious and bloodthirsty being in the world pulling out reading glasses or bending over to sign forms with ball point pens sent him into mental giggles.

Soon, it was his turn. He turned over a copy his memories and signed the documentation needed before, writing in the clause, "Unusual Events", received a gift, supposedly magical in nature. Will take to Command. With that he was nearly free to get to his holiday, much deserved after 3 months of non-stop disaster relief efforts. He walked briskly to the chamber holding the members of Command. A massive affair, the ten Commanders in charge of, well everything, sat at ten desks in a circle, with an optional privacy ward erected at a mere brush of a button. Three desks were empty, as the Sidhe Commander and Mundane Commander were out on missions. As for the last desk, it was waiting for Harry. At his arrival, the previous flurry of activity stopped long enough for a room-wide bow. Harry bowed back briefly but before he even lifted his eyes from the ground the work had commenced once more. He cleared his throat, standing in the middle of the circle. Commander Jason Argo, a man aged by centuries, though he looked only to be thirty, said bemusedly, 'Yes Harry?'

Harry cut to the chase. Time was precious to Command. 'I received a gift of some sort from a dying woman on my mission. It's highly magical and I'm told it has to do with finding your soul mate.'

Commander Ariad Aktook raised a brow. 'Should we wish you our congratulations Potter?' Harry grinned to himself. The humanoid spider demon was infamous for his dry wit, reminding Harry greatly of a certain snarky potions master.

He raised his marked hand up for scrutiny saying, 'After I touched it, the globe I mean, these appeared.'

Now he had their attention. An artifact powerful enough to crack the wards Harry had on his person and mark him upon contact. Commander Jeweled Glory, a Runes Master and Archeologist in her spare time came into the circle to examine his hand. She shook her head after a moment. 'No idea dear. Not any runes I know, just silvery patterns.'

Harry sighed. The marks, silver strands seemingly part of his skin, made patterns that seemed to change. A sword was visible at one moment, a tree at another. They were beautiful and dangerous in that Harry had no idea what they could be.

'I'm taking some time off. To figure this' he held up his hand, 'out and to rest.'

Commander Ariad Aktook 'looked shrewdly at him. 'You will not show us the gift will you?' He closed his eight eyes. 'Hmm, sounds like a heart-guide. Takes time, experience, and power to make on of those. The markings are a sort of guide, give you visual clues. How big is it?'

Harry was relived. Not an evil soul sucking device at all.

'About the size of an orange' 'Hmm you-' Commander Cassandra whispered an interruption.

"You've a long journey ahead of you. You'll need that time off. Go to your Gringotts vaults before you _go_ and take a sip of this when you enter.' As the seer spoke, a small vial appeared in Harry's marked hand. She smiled warmly, her wrinkled face creasing alarmingly. 'Make sure to taste the Sake for us!'

With a woosh of portal spell, Harry was transported to his flat in New York before he had a chance to say anything, Cassandra's chuckles carrying after him.


End file.
